


Flash Drives

by Lokislittlearmy



Category: Power Rangers Battle Strike
Genre: Contract killing, Gen, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, No Context, Panic Attacks, and its very heavy so be warned, this is rly just for my rp partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 14:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokislittlearmy/pseuds/Lokislittlearmy
Summary: “Queen’s Crematorium, you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em.” The teasing smile is almost visible, even past the screen with the Windows Media Player logo. It’s like he can see them, leaning against the table across the aisle of his lab. Coil cord twisting around their finger. The jacket they were wearing today still new, not broken in quite yet.The person on the other end of the line takes a moment to speak up. “...Hello?”Fuck. Fuck, he hasn’t heard his mother’s voice in six fucking years. Not even at the funeral, not when they were packing or organizing the old home video tapes, not in Facebook memories or anything at all. He feels like he’s going to throw up, and it’s not even at the ten second mark.





	Flash Drives

Jay plugs the flash drive into the shitty computer. It’s all spare parts and years-old hard drive, one he had to factory reset because the virus was so strong it made his head hurt without even trying to focus on it. It whirs to life like it would rather drag its components off a cliff by the insulated wire. 

It takes five minutes just to start up. Five slow, agonizing minutes where Jay stares at the thick paper. Queen’s—Haruka’s boss, whoever she is, must be pretty fucking good at what she does. Someone, somewhere down the line, knew this to be true. Not that he’ll believe it until he hears his parents say it.

Finally, the computer boots up and the fan slows for the first time. He takes a deep breath and plugs one in. It’s got masking tape on it, the Sharpie saying it’s a bit older than the other, with his mother’s name on it. Lydia Colbert.

The computer asks what he’d like to do with the drive, and he mutters to open the file explorer. He hasn’t spoken his actions out loud in...a while. It’s like talking to a friend, sometimes. It’s what inspired him to make SIPS, back when he was a lonely little kid and his parents were taking longer business trips and he just wanted to think about anything but his situation, so he made SIPS. Synthetic Intelligence Personal System. He remembers when it was a throwaway name to change later, before he got attached to how it rolled off of his tongue when he was panicking or barely awake. And then, after his parents died, changing the name felt like ripping away the last bit of normalcy he had. He couldn’t do it if he wanted to. 

The folder opens. 

A .wav file and a .txt file, each with “LC” and the same date and time, matching up well with the date modified. And...it’s all six years ago, two weeks before the day his parents were declared missing. It’s possible to modify those, though it’s tiresome.

His hands are shaking when he goes to open the first file. He barely manages it, and it pains him to do so. 

The quality is...dead awful, but it’s more than intelligible. It’s Haruka’s voice.

“Queen’s Crematorium, you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em.” The teasing smile is almost visible, even past the screen with the Windows Media Player logo. It’s like he can see them, leaning against the table across the aisle of his lab. Coil cord twisting around their finger. The jacket they were wearing today still new, not broken in quite yet.

The person on the other end of the line takes a moment to speak up. “...Hello?”

Fuck. Fuck, he hasn’t heard his mother’s voice in six fucking years. Not even at the funeral, not when they were packing or organizing the old home video tapes, not in Facebook memories or anything at all. He feels like he’s going to throw up, and it’s not even at the ten second mark. 

In his mind, Haruka pauses the twirling of the cord and tilts their head. “Hi, can I ask who this is?” A slight pause. “Unless you’d prefer to remain anonymous.”

“I have a job for you. My husband, I...I need him gone.” Her voice is shaking. She’s terrified, and Jay finds himself touching the screen like he can reach through and comfort her. “He knows something about me and I can’t let him speak a word of it, it would ruin my entire family.”

“So you’re hiring a contract killer?” When no answer comes, Jay hears Haruka sigh. “I’ll need to know the who, when, and how much you’re willing to pay.”

“Charles Colbert. I can tell you anything you need to know about him, but I need it done within the next month. I’ll pay anything.”

The grin in Haruka’s voice is audible. It turns Jay’s stomach. “Anything?”

Jay closes out of the file. He can’t...do this, he can’t listen to any more of it even though he’s barely a third of the way through the conversation. With the file, the image of Haruka leaves him too, disappears completely. He wipes at his face. When did he start crying? It feels like he’s been crying for years. 

He’s shaking like he’s been in the cold for years, but he opens the .txt file anyway.

It’s just a transcript. Between Queen and “LC.” She didn’t say what the secret was that she was so desperate to keep. She seemed unwilling to say anything at all.

He unplugs the flash drive without even closing the file, and he’s met with a metric shit ton of errors from it. He waves them away and plugs in the other one, labeled “Charles Colbert” a week and a half later.

The .wav file is shorter. 

“Queen’s Taxidermy. You snuff ‘em, we stuff ‘em.”

There’s a bit of a shocked silence. And then, “I have a job for you, if you’re not booked.”

It somehow hits just as hard as his mom’s voice. He wants to scream, or cry, or throw this disembodied computer out of his window into the pool below. Haruka’s image reappears, lounging with their back against the wall. Dressed in Queen’s extravagant furs, checking their nails as they lazily respond. “Rarely am, sweetheart. Tell me about who you need offed, when you need it, and what your budget is.”

There’s another silence. Not a single shake in his father’s voice, but it sounds strained. “My wife, I know she’s planning on killing me. I need her gone before she goes after me. Within the week.”

“Oh, how intriguing.” They sound a little interested, but it’s mostly sarcastic. “What’s the name on the order? Both ends, if you don’t mind.”

“My name is Charles. Hers is Lydia Colbert.”

There’s a tense pause. Maybe Jay’s father believed it was so that Queen could write something down. Jay hears himself sniffle and choke on his own sob in the silence. And then, Haruka’s response. “I see. I’ll have it done soon, so long as you name the right price.”

Fuck, no, this can’t--

Jay rips the flash drive from the outlet. The computer doesn’t even have a chance to give him errors before it’s sparking. He hasn’t overloaded circuits since he was grieving, and it feels like all the emotions he packed away nicely and neatly has been ripped out, upended with its contents strewn across his lab floor.

There’s a crackle, a pop, and the screen goes dark. The lab lights flicker, and they just don’t stop. Jay can’t help it, he screams with his father’s flash drive clutched in his hand and his palms against his temples.

His parents wanted each other dead. It wasn’t even some fucking person from outside the family, some other rich prick he suspected for as long as he could remember, it’s from right within his home.

He isn’t even sure how long he sits there. Once he finishes screaming, he just keels over with his forehead touching the floor and sobs. And once he’s out of tears, he watches the reflection of the lights on the stained tile floor, watches them flicker and fade. 

Because he knows that the image of Haruka hasn’t gone away. Not really. The thought of them lounging around in his most private space in the world is gone, but they’re still bouncing around in his brain. The thought of Haruka...not Queen, not some faceless figure that he can pin blame on, but somebody that he has trusted for half a decade. The thought of them striding into the kitchen and killing his parents, maybe with a wry, teasing remark. Maybe with an explanation of the whole situation, and maybe that’s why the knife was so far away from the cutting board. Maybe they gave some long-winded monologue and revealed their face, knowing their prey couldn’t get away, and stepped forward to grab their arms or their hands and using their power to-

The fuse in his lab blows out. The room plunges into darkness, lit only by the sliver of light through the drawn curtains. He’s shaking on his floor, and he feels absolutely helpless.

His phone ringing snaps him out of his trance. It nearly scares him to death. “SIPS, pick up.”

As soon as the line clicks to life, Sebastian is off like a rocket. “Jay, your AI has given me like, ten alerts in the past hour but I just got out of a meeting. And I know you decreased its sensitivity last night. What’s going on? Do I need to come down there? Are you in danger?”

Jay shakes his head even though Sebastian can’t see him. His head is still to the floor. “I’m fine. I’m okay. You’re thirteen hours away anyway, it’s alright.”

“I’m only two hours away by plane, you know that.” Sebastian sounds like he’s out of breath. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t know how much to say. He hasn’t gotten the chance to process, to filter, to filter again so he doesn’t worry his brother. So that filter just isn’t there anymore. “I know who killed our parents.” His voice breaks on the last syllable, and he’s sobbing again. But he spills everything.

He tells Sebastian about everything Royelle has been up to. About Queen, though he’s certain Sebastian has already read the news about that, and the ensuing fight in the alley. Realizing that she knew who he was, and meeting them in the cafe, and the flower carved into the table. 

And then about the flash drives, and the folder, and the phone calls and the contracts.

He’s not shaking so hard by the end of his story, but that’s not really good.

Sebastian is silent for a while. Jay prepares himself for a long lecture about how Jay never should have become Royelle in the first place, and how this is exactly what Seb was afraid of, because he was just so close to dying by the exact same hands as their parents. Even though danger was apparently everywhere. 

Instead, what he gets is a soft, “They killed each other.”

“They had someone else do it,” Jay says just loud enough for the receiver to pick up.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sebastian is choked up. “Whoever did it, whoever they took out. They were the ones that wanted that, and they would have done it if they couldn’t find anybody else.”

Jay finally rolls off to his side, letting his matted hair drape over his face. “We would have had one parent, at least.”

“One parent that was still capable of murder. Who still would have killed someone they loved instead of going to the authorities.” Sebastian’s breath hitches. “God, what if that had been one of us? Kids, we were kids, we had loose lips, if we had found out whatever the fuck her secret was, I-” He cuts himself off. 

God. He’s right. Jay traces constellations in the speckled print on the tile.

“I’m so sorry that you have to deal with this,” Sebastian says quietly. “I wish I could tell you what to do.”

“I wish anybody could,” Jay chokes out. 

It’s a long time before either of them speak again. Sebastian sniffles and clears his throat. “I, uh. I know it’s probably well-guarded anyway, maybe lost forever, but...maybe we should just leave whatever her secret was alone.” He pauses, then adds on, “I don’t think it’s worth finding out.”

“Yeah,” Jay says in response.

“That means don’t go after it. Whatever you want to do with Haruka or Braeden, or as Royelle...do that, but don’t touch our mom’s secret. Don’t go searching. Please, stay safe. Promise me that.” 

Jay almost says no, but fuck. He knows Sebastian is right. It’s not worth it. “I promise.” It’s getting dark out now, the little sliver of light fading over the horizon and turning golden in his reflections. “I need to change the fuse.”

Sebastian’s reply is delayed. “Stay on the line with me? I just...if I need someone right now, I know you do too.”


End file.
